His, Hers & Theirs
by frozenmorningdew
Summary: Valdaya through and through. POV story.
1. His

**His**

**AN:** So this just came to me out of the blue and it's really late and maybe it doesn't even make any sense but it's still here. And cheers to Jared Leto for that ending quote, although I tweaked it a little.

**Disclaimer:** This is all just my crazy mind trying to deal. And I don't own anything. Not even a car.

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><p>The path of their friendship wasn't an easy one. The age gap sometimes made things uncomfortable, making people want to jump to conclusions about their relationship. Their connection was another thing that bewildered most people. Once, some years ago, it had been deemed cute and adorable for these two to have such a strong bond. He knew her so well because he was her protector, her security. Her big brother. But now it was different. There would be hushed whispers every time they stepped into a room together, sometimes with their hands clutched, mostly for support because having dozens of judgmental eyes on you was not their idea of fun. These people were right though. Well up to a certain point. There was something there and had been from the start. But neither of them had known that.<p>

They didn't associate their closeness, their happiness and, their sometimes unbridled jealousy, to each other in any capacity. Because them having feelings for each other wasn't logical. How could a grown ass man take such a liking to a _teenager_? But that wasn't the case. He had seen through her. It was all an act. She was a "grown, grown woman" as he had so eloquently put it in one of their early interviews. She was mature, graceful and trusted him more than he trusted himself. And that was the thing. From the moment he had laid eyes on her, he had stopped trusting himself. He sensed from the start that it was going to be difficult. Having close to no boundaries between them. Touching the bare skin on her stomach when they did lifts. Having the self-control not to stroke his thumb over her lips when he clutched her face and kissed her forehead. He had known from the start that those things would be difficult, but he never imagined why. Because all of this tension in his body, all of the times his breath hitched because she beamed her magnificent smile at him, _and only him, _he never associated it with _love_. Lust maybe, but never love. But neither was any good because who _lusts_ after a teenager? And that's why he didn't trust himself.

Val knew lust. He had experienced that feeling countless of times. From the time he was 14 he had rarely ever had a moment where he wasn't lusting after someone. Class mates, dance partners, curvaceous brunettes on the dance floor. He had done it all. And he had enjoyed it. But that was gone now. Every time he slided up to some woman on the dance floor and put his hands on her, it was like his fingertips had been stung. Because it wasn't her. It was never her. So he had stopped. And it wasn't difficult. Meaningless sex had always been Val's go to drug. It was a high that was only eclipsed by the dance floor. Only eclipsed with _her _on the dance floor. But being with a **someone** only hurt more than not being with her.

He didn't know how she felt. He never dared to ask. She was still so young, she was still a teenager, and being burdened with him is something he would never wish on her. He didn't want the whispers to come true. He didn't want to give those people and their superior attitude any more ammunition.

She deserved someone who could give her the world, not someone who could take it away from her. She deserved to love someone the same way he loved her. And maybe one day, years from now, that could be him. When she was older, when she was wiser, when she would understand just how he loved her.

And so he took each day as it came, sometimes getting lost in her. Other times hiding away because he couldn't stand the smell of coconut that always seemed to emanate from her skin. But always ready, always there for anything that she needed. Because love isn't about whom you can see yourself with. It's whom you can't see yourself without. And he could never leave her side.


	2. Hers

She sat in the not so comfortable chair in her dressing room, the one whose sides kinda poked her and made her painfully squirm at almost every breath she drew. She didn't know whose idea it had been to buy it and normally she wouldn't even think about sitting in it but today, _today_ pain felt good. She had been trying for so long to keep all emotions at bay, that at this moment she relished in every sliver of hurt that coursed through her body. Physical pain was better than an emotional one, right?

Her mind wandered. She thought about how ungrateful she was. Sitting in this room, which was freshly made up for her with her favorite flowers strategically placed in various locations so the aroma would fill every crevice of the space. Being a star meant she got everything she wanted which in turn meant she was truly privileged. And she knew she was. And at times that's where her pain stemmed from. If only she wasn't in the spotlight, she could've loved him openly from the start. _If she weren't in the spotlight she never would've met him._

She thought about yesterday morning. When she had sat down with her parents, adamant in telling them what she had so recently admitted to herself. She had told them about her very strong and very intense feelings towards the man she had throughout the years foolishly referred to as her "big brother." The looks of disbelief that shone from their faces were only overshadowed by the look of pity that slowly started to graze her mother's features.

_Nineteen. You're nineteen and he's thirty.  
><em>**Does he know?  
><strong>_You're a Disney star and he's thirty.  
><em>**Have you talked about this with him?  
><strong>_You're nineteen and he's … experienced.  
><em>**You were so young when you met each other.**

_**This could ruin both of you.**_

And she knew. She knew they were right. She _was_ nineteen and he _was _thirty. But she wasn't a normal nineteen year old. She hadn't been normal since she started working for a living and providing her family with all of their necessities. And Val. Val was mature and intense. But his boyish outlook on life meant they were a perfect fit. They met halfway, like they always had. That's why they were friends. That's why they were best friends. Their worlds had collided and now they spun around each other's orbits. The last thing she had wanted was that to stop.

For the past three years she had tried to not let the whispers get to her. They all knew people talked. Her father knew especially. And those whispers grew louder with every passing day. Why should she deny herself something that she was already being accused of? But she wasn't that naïve. She knew how the world worked. But enough was enough, she had thought. She hadn't taken her parents observations or protests to heart. Instead she'd calmly explained to them, that her decision was made and when they once again voiced their utter disapproval at her choice, she not so calmly excited the house she shared with her parents.  
>She'd gone to him. Straight to him like she always did when she had a disagreement with them. But this time had been different. This time the true purpose of her visit was he. He had been happy to see her, he always was but something felt different. That should've been the first sign for her. Before she could even start telling him about her deepest desires, all of which involved him, <em>he <em>told _her._

About his love for a girl. No, a woman. How she raised his spirits when the whole world seemed to let him down. _She did that_. How she took care of him and always knew what he needed. _That was her job._ How he was always enveloped in the smell of coconut every time he held her in his arms and how that smell had come to represent happiness to him. _But that was her scent. _How she made his world more beautiful with her delicate touch and his heart sing with joy with her smile, which fell like a ray of sunshine against his face. _Delicate? No. This wasn't her. No one would ever describe Zendaya Coleman as delicate. And she hated her smile. She had tried her utmost to hide it, even near him (though she generally failed miserably). _**This wasn't her.**

It seemed as though this woman had everything she could've given him _and more. _When she thought back she realized that she didn't know how long she had stayed quiet. She had heard his voice trying to penetrate her subconscious and when she had finally looked up at him, all she had seen was disappointment. Disappointment in her actions was all she could presume. Because instead of being happy that he had found love she was sad that he had not found _her _love. So she had done a selfish act, one she could only presume had hurt them both. She had walked out, without uttering a word. She had heard him whispering her name as she stood up, a look of resignation on his face. She had only kept going. And she had kept going all night. Driving through various parts of Los Angeles, only stopping when the tears became too much for her to handle.

And her she sat. Heartbroken, empty. Unsure of any future she had with her friend. How could she explain her reaction? Would she be able to fake a smile for that woman? The one he loved. Did she want to?

_There comes a time in every life we find the heart we're looking for._**Too bad for her that his heart had found another**_. _


	3. Theirs

He sat on the floor, his body leaning against his front door. What had just happened? He had had a plan. He had thought this through. Had he been so blinded by his own feelings that he had, subconsciously, transferred them onto her? Was he so desperate for her love that he read all the signs wrong? Had there been any signs except the ones in his head? Somehow his only thought had been of him telling her every repressed emotion and of every glance he had tried to hide for the past three years. Never had he thought about her not loving him back. He felt sick to his stomach. When he had first met her he had made himself a promise not to get in too deep. But when he was with her he, a man who barely chuckled the best of times, always laughed too hard and he just knew he was screwed.

His mind went back to his original plan. _Waiting_. Wait until she was older. Wait until she had really established herself. Wait until she had the same experiences as he had. But these past few months had made him realize, _made him think, _that this was something they both wanted. That he was what she wanted.

Her hand lingering on his arm, that smile that she only showed him, her hair tickling the side of his face when she leaned in just a bit closer than she was used to. At those times he could almost taste her. Why hadn't he?

He was a fool. He hadn't really told her. He hadn't been brave. He hadn't been anything. He had told her things he thought she wanted to hear, without telling her that he was talking about her. He had sabotaged himself. Maybe she didn't understand. Maybe this was a misunderstanding. But that was just wishful thinking. He had made it abundantly clear that she was it for him. And she still was, even though he may not be it for her.

This wouldn't do. He needed her by his side, in any capacity that she saw fit. He had to talk to her. He had to set aside the flood of emotions that threatened to drown him every time her lips would say his name.

He was her friend. That's where all of this started. He would talk to her, tomorrow. She needed time. And like always he wanted to give her everything she needed.

_Knocking_.

**Just give me a minute. I'm almost ready.** She tousled her hair a bit and made sure her face was presentable. She didn't need people to see tear stroked cheeks.

_Knocking._

**I said … Val. **

**Hey. **He stood outside her dressing room. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.

_Silence._

**Can I come in? I just wanted to see how you were doing. You seemed a bit upset when you… Left yesterday.**

_A bit. _

_Left. _

Her cheeks turned red as embarrassment seeped through her body. She really wasn't ready for this. **I really should apologize for that, shouldn't I? Acting like some brat, just because my friend might not have time for me anymore. **

_Silence. Hope._

**Is that what you think? **Was this how she really felt? How… Did she want him?

**I know it doesn't make any sense. You have a girlfriend. You're in love. It doesn't mean th…**

**With you **he only managed to whisper.

**What?**

**I'm in love with you. You really didn't get that? I mean... Some part of me hoped that was the case but the rational part of me never dreamed of this conversation actually taking this turn. I came here to apologize and…**

**STOP. **She was assertive. This was hers. **Now you stop. All those things you said **_**to **_**me were **_**about **_**me? I thought... Maybe… **She couldn't go on.

**You thought they were about someone else?**

**I just don't understand. How is this actually happening? I've wanted this.**

**I've wanted you.**

_Silence_

**Can we?**

**Is there any reason we can't?**

Her face lit up. Her eyes shimmered, like fireworks were reflecting in them. **No, there truly isn't.**

And then it happened. It wasn't how they'd imagined. It wasn't an animalistic kiss or hot or passionate beyond belief.

It was soft. And sweet. And warm. Their bodies melting into each other like they never had before. It was like coming home. It didn't represent their built up emotions or their journey up to this point. It stood for the road ahead. And it was laid with memories of a friendship and the future of lovers.

They spent the next few days getting to know each other, in every way imaginable. And at night, when they were impossible tired, they just laid in bed, looking into each other's eyes. You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.


End file.
